


What If?

by sanguisuga



Series: Sang's Holiday Offerings [6]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Because Impatient Bastards, Confessions, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Full Mystrade by the end, M/M, New Year's Eve, On the Breakfast Table, Smuff - My Legacy, do not copy to another site, pre-Mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: Mycroft gets a surprise visit on New Year's Eve.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Sang's Holiday Offerings [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1220093
Comments: 13
Kudos: 164





	What If?

Mycroft paused in his reading to take a sip of his hot toddy, childishly smacking his lips in satisfaction. A book by the fire was one of life's simplest pleasures, but it did wonders to soothe Mycroft's spirits, to help settle both mind and body. He chuckled to himself as he looked down at the improbably-muscled young man that adorned the cover of his 'novel'.

He had recently discovered a penchant for self-published schlocky erotica, thinly-disguised as 'romance'. He indulged in a new one just about every night, almost endlessly amused that a great many of the stories revolved around supernatural shapeshifters of any variety. Were-bears and hedgehogs and cuttlefish, oh my. And of course the human halves of the protagonist's love interest were suitably burly and manly - but sweet - and often quite stupid.

Not at all like Mycroft's particular interest, but he had to admit that he had recently allowed his mind to entertain more fanciful thoughts as inspired by his somewhat questionable reading matter. He could easily imagine himself as a red fox, quick and sly and clever. And his paramour? It was perhaps a bit clichè, but he always began as a wolf in Mycroft's imagination, protective and noble, with just a hint of underlying ferocity.

However it began, the fantasy would usually conclude in a cosy den, red fur mingling with silver as they curled up together. Oh, they would tumble, either as beasts or as men, but when the sharp bliss of Mycroft's orgasm had faded, it would be the rather domestic aftermath that would lead him to sleep. That was the truest fantasy, after all.

Setting aside his book, Mycroft stared into the fire for a bit before closing his eyes. He had intended to keep from indulging until past midnight, but it wasn't that far off and there was no harm in testing his own self-control. He wiggled slightly against the seat cushion, feeling the reassuring weight nestled inside his body shift just a bit deeper. 

Sighing quietly, Mycroft conjured up that den in his mind's eye, allowing the familiar sense of comfort, of contentment and love to well up all around him. His sweetheart was curled up against him, his nose buried in Mycroft's soft chest, his breaths deep and even as he slept. Mycroft nuzzled at the thick ruff of silver fur around his mate's neck, huffing out a short snort that roused the other beast. Sharp teeth showed in a jaw-cracking yawn, and his mate stretched out beside him, growling softly as Mycroft nipped at his fluffy ear. 

But then he was being rolled onto his back, and the warm, almost stuffy atmosphere of the den morphed into the slightly chilly but plush expanse of Mycroft's bed. No more fur, only a bristly salt-and-pepper jawline, and silver hair fetchingly rumpled from the pillows. Warm brown eyes met his, and delightfully thick fingers ran down his torso. 

A low rumble of laughter met Mycroft's needy whine, his back arching even as he wrapped his legs around his love's waist. He could feel him, hard and heavy, grinding against him, and Mycroft reached for him, licking his lips as dark eyelashes fluttered in relief. Almost holding his breath in anticipation, Mycroft began to guide him closer, struggling to hold himself loose and open for the impending breach.

_*bzzzzzzt*_

He nearly tumbled to the floor as the grating tone of his doorbell startled him out of his reverie. Mycroft shuffled out of the sitting room with his head spinning unpleasantly, hastily tying his dressing gown shut over the obvious bulge in his pyjamas. Whoever it was knocked rather forcefully just as Mycroft got to the door, and he snorted with irritation as he fumbled with the lock. 

Eyebrow raised and lip curled, he snarled out, "It's nearly midnight, this had better be good," as he jerked the door open. All of his righteous anger abruptly deflated as he beheld Detective Inspector Lestrade standing just beyond. Mycroft had to shake his head slightly to reconcile the image of the creature that he had just been fantasising about with the reality of the very man on his doorstep. 

He simply stood and stared for a moment, taking in Lestrade's general air of anxiety, offset by a rather determined tilt of his chin. Mycroft stood aside, sweeping him in with a silent gesture. Lestrade nodded curtly as he entered, and Mycroft took a moment to breathe in an attempt to clear his mind as he locked the door behind him. 

"Detective Inspector, to what do I owe the pleasure at this rather inconvenient moment?" He started to turn back to his unexpected guest. "I do hope nothing is amiss." Mycroft shrank back against the door as Lestrade suddenly moved, his mind momentarily blanking out in sheer disbelief as a hot mouth closed over his.

It didn't take him long to recover, though. Not with those hands cupping his face, with the heat of that body pressed so close to his. Knees shaking, hands still braced flat against the door, Mycroft pushed into that kiss with all that he had in him, humming under his breath as Lestrade gently disengaged. 

He strove to calm his rather tumultuous heartbeat as Lestrade's thumbs traced up over his cheekbones, and Mycroft dared to brush their noses together ever so gently.

Lestrade huffed out an almost silent laugh, his lips curling up deliciously. "Not going to have me executed, then?"

"Certainly not." Mycroft tilted his face into that beguiling touch, letting out a sigh as Lestrade nuzzled at his temple. "But perhaps an explanation is in order?"

Lestrade heaved out a breath as he leant back, his brow crinkling in consternation as his eyes roved over Mycroft's face. "I'm a fairly simple man. I try not to worry about the future, or dwell on the past. I take each day as it comes, right?" Mycroft frowned slightly, inclining his head in vague agreement. "So, this time of the year generally doesn't mean all that much to me. One day it's one year, and the next it's another. No big deal."

Mycroft cleared his throat. "But tonight is different, I suppose?"

Lestrade shrugged, his lips turning up wryly. "I started thinking. Never a good thing for a bloke like me, but well. Once I get going, you understand..."

"I might have an inkling, yes."

"So. There I am in my stupid little flat and I realise that it's not just a new year coming up, it's a new bloody decade. Plus I'm going to be fifty-five this year. A bit past my prime-"

"Detect-" Mycroft's mouth shut almost of its own accord as Lestrade gave him a look. "Fine. Greg. Don't be ridiculous."

"Anyway. I'm thinking I should finally get my shit together, right? So I start with the what ifs. What if I work on my diet, maybe see if I can't get as reasonably fit as a sad old bastard can be? What if I put my hand in for DCI? That sort of thing."

"Lofty goals, and quite achievable. And yet I still don't see-"

Greg waved off Mycroft's platitudes and cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. "I haven't gotten there yet, have I?" Mycroft huffed and rolled his eyes, making a show of keeping his mouth firmly shut. His lips quivered as Greg stopped to simply look at him, his eyes glittering with humour and with what Mycroft was astonished to realise was inestimable fondness. "Silly git. So I've got career and health down, yeah? What's left?"

Mycroft's heart tripped in his chest as Greg quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "L-love?"

Greg smiled jubilantly, leaning in to knock their foreheads together in an almost unbearably sweet gesture. "Love! I start thinking, 'what if I put myself out there, what if I let myself fall in love again'. But then it hits me, like a bloody freight train. Because I think about love, and there you are. In my mind, in my heart - it's you." He pressed in close once more, and this time Mycroft allowed himself the freedom to touch, slipping his hands underneath Greg's coat, gripping him around the waist.

Greg's lips trembled against Mycroft's neck as he nuzzled up to his ear, his voice low and breathy. "It's always been you. I couldn't let another year - not another minute - go by without letting you know just how much I care about you." 

"Sweet Jesus." 

A low rumble of laughter vibrated against Mycroft's chest, and he simply could not keep himself from grinning like a fool. He stretched out his neck as Greg peppered kisses all over his skin, shivering as his earlobe was caught in strong white teeth and tugged sharply. 

"This is insane. I more or less came into your home and assaulted you. By all rights you should have me arrested."

"I believe that would be a bit overzealous, as I've raised no objections."

"That's true, although I can't understand why." Greg pulled away slightly, his head tilting inquisitively. "I hardly think I'm the type you usually go for."

"Well, then your thought processes are perhaps a bit faulty. You do own a mirror, correct?"

Greg blushed, his eyes dropping bashfully. "Ah, that doesn't count for anything. I bet you can find plenty of blokes prettier than me. Younger, too.”

“But none so kind, or so caring.” Mycroft reached up to lift Greg’s chin. “Selfless and considerate. Patient.” Mycroft shook his head softly as Greg’s eyes widened. “The things my brother has put you through. Not once did you even think about giving up on him. Or...” Mycroft blinked. “Or me.”

Greg just smiled at him, that lopsided carefree grin that always made Mycroft’s stomach flip. He took in a short breath, sliding his hand around to the nape of Greg’s neck, his fingers tickling through the short silver hairs, delighting in the little shiver his touch engendered. 

“I do believe there’s one ‘what if’ that you failed to account for.”

“And what would that be?”

“What if..." Mycroft took in a deep breath and let it all out in a rush. "What if I were to tell you that your feelings are completely and unambiguously reciprocated?”

“I’d say that you were having me on.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, just moments before you pounded on my door like some hero out of a dreadful romantic comedy, I was fantasising about you." Mycroft put his mouth to Greg's ear, his fingers gripping at his neck. "We were in my bed, you were between my legs, and you were _just_ about to slide into me."

Greg huffed out a strangled laugh, his breath tickling at Mycroft's neck. "Came at a bad time, did I?"

"Well. That has yet to be determined."

“Why, you little _tart_.”

Mycroft hummed with delight. "Quite a large one, in fact." He licked at Greg's ear, nibbling at his jawline. "Greg..." He writhed against the body pressed so close to his, shuddering as he felt hardness rub against his own. "I want you to fuck me. Right here - right now."

Greg growled low, and Mycroft could only gasp as two strong hands clapped firmly onto his backside and squeezed. He felt those hands yank and pull and he eagerly followed the wordless order, lifting his legs to wrap around Greg's waist. Mycroft nearly swooned at the sharp grunt in his ear, at the feeling of that solid body bracing itself to willingly take on his weight. 

He gripped at Greg's shoulders, held taut under his fingers, and tilted his head back against the door, his whole body trembling with anticipation. Mycroft frowned slightly after a few seconds of inactivity, opening his eyes and catching sight of the side of Greg's face. He was preoccupied with glancing over his shoulder, a distinct crinkle in his brow as he scanned the bottles on the worktop.

Mycroft bit his lip, wondering if perhaps he had taken things just a bit too far. He gently tried to disengage the grip of his legs around Greg's waist, freezing absolutely still as those strong hands dug even further into the meat of his arse. Greg turned his head to look at him, his dark eyes almost frantic and yet - concerned.

Mycroft swallowed hard, willing his voice not to waver with disappointment. "I'm terribly sorry. It - it was too much, too fast. I was still somewhat lost in my fantasy and got a bit carried away. It wasn't my intention to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable."

Greg shook his head definitively, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "No! No, I'm not upset. Not in the least." He grinned crookedly. "Actually, I think it sounds like a fucking fantastic idea. I just..." He looked over his shoulder again. "Do you have some, like - oil or something we could use?" When he looked back, his eyes were twinkling. "I don't want to hurt you. I mean, not like that." His voice dipped into a low growl. "Not _yet_ , anyway."

_"Hnghk."_ Mycroft shook a bit of sense back into his brain. "Not necessary." He quirked a grin at the inquisitive tilt of Greg's eyebrow. "Slide your hand into my pants." Mycroft shivered as Greg did as he was told. "Yes. And now further down, and - between."

Greg hummed as his fingers tapped at the base of the plug that had been stuffed up Mycroft's bum for most of the evening. He took hold and twisted it, his breath shuddering out of his lungs as Mycroft tensed in his arms and wiggled sensuously against his aching erection. "Do you often go about like this, then?"

Mycroft grinned despite himself. "More often than you'd think." He paused as Greg blinked at him, clearly picturing him in his everyday attire.

"And what else do you hide underneath those three-piece suits of armour that you wear so well?"

Mycroft unexpectedly felt his cheeks bloom with colour. "Never you mind. Perhaps that's something we can discuss later." He pursed his lips. "If you're very good. Suffice to say that I had intended to ring in the new year with a little personal entertainment." Mycroft tilted his head imperiously, his stomach fluttering at the twinkle in Greg's eyes. "And now that you are here, you can entertain me instead."

"Indeed I can." He grunted as he shifted his feet and tried to renew his grip. "Not sure I can manage like this, though. Maybe two or three decades ago..."

Mycroft nodded even as he clucked his tongue. "No, it wouldn't do to begin this new venture with an injury, would it?" He once again started to unwind himself. "I still want it to be here. You can take me from behind."

Greg's mouth abruptly turned down into a frown. "No, I most certainly can not. Not for the first." He leant in to brush a soft kiss against Mycroft's lips, running his nose over his cheek. "I need to see your face when I sink in balls-deep for the first time." He drew back as Mycroft whimpered softly. "There will be plenty of time later for us to fuck like animals."

Mycroft shuddered violently. "Greg, for fuck's sake will you just please-"

Greg tilted his head off to the left of the kitchen, to the tidy little nook where Mycroft usually took his breakfast. "How sturdy is that table?"

"Sturdy enough. If it gets damaged, so be it." Mycroft tightened the hold of his limbs. "Go." He glared as Greg let out a brief bark of laughter. "Now, damn you!"

Grinning wildly, Greg threw his head back with a boisterous cry of, "Tally ho!" Mycroft could only giggle breathlessly as he was hoisted higher, his unconventional steed shuffling as rapidly as he was able to under his burden. 

Mycroft's bum hit the surface perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary, but he ignored the way the table shuddered underneath him in favour of trying to remove as much of Greg's clothing as possible as rapidly as possible. Greg growled as he was briefly deterred from unbuttoning Mycroft's top as his mack was shoved from his shoulders. 

He refused to give any more quarter as Mycroft attempted to relieve him of his shirt, instead pushing him flat on the table and rubbing their exposed torsos together as he snogged him utterly blind. He nearly protested the delay until he felt Greg's fingers fumbling down below. Mycroft heard the clink of a belt and the welcome sound of a zip being drawn down, and practically sobbed in his relief. 

Mycroft's own pants were only yanked aside well enough to gain access to the important bits, and he could hardly draw breath before he felt an impatient tug at the slippery plug in his arse. He obligingly bore down as it was pulled free and was barely even able to register the vaguely achy feeling of being empty before he was being filled again.

Mycroft sucked in a sharp breath in his surprise at the sensation of a slow, throbbing swelling deep inside. He had been prepared for teasing, had already marshalled his thoughts around either demanding or begging, but it seemed that the time for teasing was over. And thank Christ, too.

He groaned low in his chest, eyes wide and unblinking. Mycroft felt a gentle hand on his cheek and he leant into it, looking up into the most beautiful face he had ever seen.

Greg practically purred at him as he ground deeper into his body, his teeth bared in a feral grin. "Oh, there you are." He rolled his hips in a slow circle, biting his bottom lip as Mycroft whimpered. "Like that, don't you?"

"Dear God." Mycroft took in a slow, measured breath as Greg chuckled, still pushing and grinding and generally driving him just a bit mad. "You're perfect. How can you be so bloody perfect?"

Greg shook his head, his smile turning rueful. "I'm really not."

Mycroft bit his lip at another slow drag within. "Well, you apparently are a terrible tease. I can put that in the 'con' column."

"You have a tally already?"

Mycroft snorted out a quick laugh. "I've had a file for some years now."

Greg stopped in his gentle thrusting, halfway out of Mycroft's body. He clenched down around him, trying to wiggle his arse just a bit closer. He squeaked as Greg shoved himself forward hard, one hand flailing out to grasp hold of his violator's shirt. 

_"Mycroft."_

Greg stooped over him, somehow managing to get his arm tucked under Mycroft's hips and lifting his bum just a bit higher. The change in angle seemed to help to facilitate a greater range of motion, and Mycroft suddenly found that it was all that he could do to simply hold fast. He clung to the edge of the table to prevent skidding across the surface, to curtail the very real possibility of being fucked right into the banquet seating under the window.

He tried to turn the grunts that were forced out of his mouth with every hard thrust into more alluring noises, but it was quite impossible. His eyes were locked on Greg's as they roved over his face, reading each minute shift in his expression, haphazardly adjusting his thrusts just to see how Mycroft reacted. 

His eyes were dark, so very dark, and they clearly saw _everything_ , no matter how hard Mycroft tried to lock himself down. Once he realised it was hopeless, he simply let himself go, let himself feel, let himself be seen. He left himself open and vulnerable, letting Greg see that as well.

It was clearly appreciated, as he seemed to re-double his efforts, driving into Mycroft's body with a frenzied purpose. In the midst of an almost overwhelming ecstasy, it struck Mycroft that he had never before been taken with such single-minded ferocity, and yet - so lovingly. 

Mycroft knew in that moment that he had already been utterly ruined for any man that might come after this one. So. The only option was to ensure that Greg would remain. For the night, and possibly for the rest of his life.

Greg saw something of that resolve in his eyes, as his own softened. He growled out his approval along with a curt demand. "Touch yourself." Mycroft nodded frantically, reaching down to tug at his neglected cock. It was almost unbearably slippery, but he just tightened his fist, determined to give Greg what he was seeking. 

"Yeah..." Greg breathed out, his eyes tight with the effort of holding back on his own impending release. "Give it to me."

Mycroft sucked in air and very nearly choked on it as he came, so suddenly and so hard that it was almost painful. Greg let out a sound as Mycroft's body clenched down around him, something wondrous and low, a deep mewl of pleasure. 

His last thrust had Mycroft skidding over the table, and his squeak of surprise made Greg giggle even in the midst of his own pleasured groan. They stared at each other as they fell silent, both sweaty and mussed and breathing as though they had just finished a marathon. 

Mycroft broke the spell with a high-pitched hiccough that was forceful enough to expel Greg's softening cock from his body. He flushed fiercely as another involuntary spasm increased the slick sensation between their bodies.

Greg pulled a face. "Gross."

Then there was that grin, that damnable grin, and they both broke down into helpless laughter. Greg unwound his arm from around Mycroft's waist, groaning as he straightened up and cracked his back. He assisted in getting Mycroft somewhat vertical, helpfully tugging his pyjama bottoms back up as he propped himself up on the edge of the table. 

Mycroft hid his face in Greg's chest as they stood together in a soft embrace. His pants were already sticking to him rather unpleasantly, but he could hardly be arsed to move from Greg's arms. 

Greg stretched with a low groan, his hold tightening exponentially. "Think my back may have words with me about this later."

Mycroft gently scratched at Greg's skin, taking in a deep draught of his scent before tilting his face to look up at him. "M-my mattress has excellent lumbar support." Greg made an interested noise, his eyes soft and knowing. "If you'd like to stay, of course."

"If you're inviting me, then yes. I'd love to." He grinned as Mycroft shimmied in delight, snorting softly as he immediately grimaced. "Maybe a nice shower first? I mean, if that's not too presumptuous."

Mycroft bit his lip. "Feel free to presume anything you like."

Again, the maddening grin, and with a wink and a saucy wiggle, Greg quickly shed his remaining clothing, leaving it in a haphazard pile on Mycroft's kitchen floor. He could only stare as Greg stepped away from him, holding out his hand and beckoning him closer.

Mycroft took his hand as if in a dream, shaking his head dazedly. "If you could get hard again, I'd go to my knees for you right this very moment."

Greg's eyes fluttered as he shivered, yanking Mycroft into a rough kiss. "You'll get your chance, love. I promise you that I will be willing to entertain all of your dirty little thoughts."

Mycroft laughed softly as they drifted toward the stairs. "I foresee some very interesting conversations in the next few days." He smirked as Greg's tongue flickered out over his lips. "And experiments." He paused briefly. "How do you feel about roleplay?"

Greg let out a startled if somewhat naughty giggle as they ascended the stairs, hand in hand. "As what, exactly?" 

Mycroft's eye caught the cover of the book that he had abandoned earlier and he smiled slyly. "Well, you see..."

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd or brit-picked. Characters not mine, but the situation definitely is!
> 
> If you'd like to get notifications and miscellany from tumblr, I'm at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com'. My activity there has slowed considerably since the Great Purge, but I also set up another tumblr just for notifications and other writerly stuff at 'sanguisugaao3.tumblr.com'.
> 
> I seem to be mostly active on twitter now, although the system confuses me and I really don't post much. But still, if you'd like to follow, I'm @sanguisugaao3 there!
> 
> (I'm also over on Pillowfort.io if anyone out there is giving them a shot - as 'sanguisuga'. Same handle on Dreamwidth, but I must confess that I don't do much on either site.)


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